Dot the I's and Cross the T's
by Spike Speigel1
Summary: Grissom gets some sagely advice from the most unlikely of places. GSR.


Title: Dot the I's and Cross the T's

Author: Spike Speigel

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Nothing substantial.

Summary: Grissom gets some sagely advice from the most unlikely of places.

Status: Finished

* * *

The two officers carefully approached the wood shack that was currently in the ownership of one Bobby Lee Thompson. Both were unsure about the nature of the call, seeing as how everything seemed rather quiet at the moment. Based on the 911, there had been multiple complaints about excessively loud noises coming from this area. But, when the noises began to be described less as vague noises and more as gunshots, Bobby Lee Thompson finally became a priority for the Las Vegas Police Department. 

But, seeing as how this strip of land was relatively close to McCarren and probably under one of their flight lanes, maybe the residents mistook the noises for nothing more than heavy air traffic. Then again, there could have been gunshots fired, so here they were.

"This is stupid, Frank. There's no one out here, man."

Officer Johns sighed, realizing that his partner was probably right. "You don't think I know that, Danny? We go where the call sends us."

Officer Martin's hand gripped the handle of his weapon still in its holster as they continued to cross the desolate piece of land in the valley basin, Martin groaning. "C'mon man. It's a prank call. Who the hell's gonna be living all the way out here? Only thing living out here are coyotes and things that get eaten by coyotes."

Johns' was about to respond to his partner's observation, but his attention was suddenly drawn to the loud shouting coming from the wooden shack in the distance. "Fire in the hole!"

Both officers looked at one another, a puzzled look on their faces. However, the puzzlement was quickly replaced with trepidation once the dynamite began to go off, exploding mere feet behind them.

Officer Johns, being of calm mind, managed to communicate to his partner succinctly so as to avoid the incoming danger.

"Run!"

Officer Martin didn't need his partner to say it a second time, both men running at full blast toward the wooden shack as the dynamite continued to go off behind them, mounds of earth flying into the air, occasionally landing on top of the officers' heads and shoulders. As they neared the shack, they could see a figure in the distance jumping up and down, an angry look on his face. When both officers finally reached the shack, they were finally able to decipher the man's ramblings in between gasping for air as they doubled over from the exertion.

"What the hell are you boys doin'! Didn't you see the signs? Jeezus H. Christ!"

Johns wondered what signs the man, most likely Bobby Lee Thompson, was babbling about. There were no signs. Then again, it wasn't like he and Martin were exactly looking for any. As Johns was about to speak, Martin pulled his weapon, pointing it at Thompson.

"Danny, what are you doing?"

"Freeze, you son of a bitch!" Martin's reward was a puzzled look from both Thompson and Johns. "Frankie, call it in man. We got a 419."

Johns wasn't sure what his partner was talking about until his eyes followed Martin's head gesturing, his gaze ultimately falling upon a heap of bones most likely unearthed in the explosion. Suddenly, their disturbance call became something much more.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Jim. But this isn't a crime scene." 

Brass knelt down next to Grissom and Sara, who were currently hovering over the pile of bones discovered on Bobby Lee Thompson's property. "What are you talking about? Those look like bones to me."

"Yes, yes they are. But, not the bones we usually get a call for." Grissom could see that Brass wasn't following, so he decided to fill in the blank. "These are animal bones. If I had to make a guess, I'd say canine. The femur's too small to be human."

"So, what? Our local Unabomber's been killing dogs for the hell of it?"

All three looked back toward the wooden shack to see Bobby Lee Thompson yelling at Officers Johns and Martin while restrained in handcuffs. Most likely continuing his use of colorful language, the officers having no choice but to listen until this situation was rectified.

Sara sighed, rising from her crouched position, Brass and Grissom looking at her as she did so. Brushing off the sand and dirt from her jeans, she eventually spoke. "I think that guy's got enough problems without offing the local canine population. Anyone notice what we walked past on the way in?"

Brass nodded, both men joining Sara in the land of standing bipeds. "Pretty sure I caught the letter **U** out there."

Grissom interjected, "And I'm certain I saw what liked an **O** carved out on the ground."

Sara nodded agreement, turning to look back at Bobby Lee. "Anyone care to guess what this guy's doing out here?"

Grissom shook his head slightly before returning his gaze to the barren outstretched land with the letters **U** and **O** carved into it. Brass, on the other hand, replied, "Well, whatever he's doing, he's within his legal right. The land is his. All twenty-something acres worth. He can do pretty much whatever he wants with it. And, since we don't have a crime scene here, I think someone owes Mr. Thompson an apology."

Brass sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly in the realization that he would have to be the one to apologize. However, he didn't get the chance to, what with Grissom's hand falling on his shoulder. "I'll do it, Jim. You two can take off."

Sara grinned, a hint of playfulness in her voice. "You wanna know what he's doing, don't you?" Grissom nodded, walking past the two and toward the wooden shack. Sara called out to Grissom as he continued to walk away. "Don't have too much fun now."

"Don't worry. I don't know the meaning of the word."

Had Grissom turned back, he would have seen a grin on both of his friends' faces.

* * *

"Fire in the hole!" Grissom placed his hands over his ears as he watched Bobby Lee set off the last of the dynamite planted in the ground, the explosion shaking the ground on which he was standing, followed closely by, "Goddamn! It's done! It's done! It's finally done!" 

Grissom couldn't help but grin as Bobby Lee made his way back to the shack, a veritable skip in his step and a genuine twinkle in his eye. As the eccentric individual neared the shack, Grissom spoke. "So, that's it then?"

Bobby Lee nodded, planting himself on the porch where Grissom currently resided, looking out into the horizon as the disheveled earth and dust slowly fell back down to terra firma. "Yep. Ten years it took me. But it's done."

"So, now will you tell me what this is all about?"

"Told you I would, didn't I?" Grissom nodded slightly. "Hell, you the first person actually give a damn what I'm doing, least I can do. Tell me something, Mr. Grissom. You 'member what you wanted to be when you was a kid?"

"Sure, a cowboy." Bobby Lee shot Grissom a perplexed look upon hearing this. "I mean, what boy didn't?"

Grissom's response was greeted with a subtle smirk and a hearty chuckle. "I like you, boy." Grissom grinned slightly as Bobby Lee proceeded. "How old were you when Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier?"

"Actually, I wasn't. Unfortunately, I was still an itch that my father had yet to scratch. Were you around when it happened?"

Bobby Lee nodded, looking back out to the empty expanse of land, the horizon now clear of airborne debris. "I was ten. I'd accidentally walked in on my parents having sex a few days prior, so I was grounded. But, they didn't know about the transistor radio I had in my room, so I didn't really mind none. Fast-forward to nineteen forty-eight and ol' Chuck did his thing, busted ribs and all. Well, not right there and then since he actually broke it in forty-seven, but you know how those Army spooks are about their top secret weapons and gizmos." Grissom nodded, intrigued by the fact that he didn't know that little bit of history. "And right there and then, I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up." A smile emerged on Bobby Lee's lips as he continued. "I was going to be a pilot."

"I can see the appeal."

"Damn right. I wanted to soar above the Earth and be able to look down at her in all her beauty. I wanted to fly so high that I'd put Icarus to shame. I guess I wanted to feel like God, when you get right down to it."

Grissom nodded, understanding what Bobby Lee meant. "Can't fault you for that. So, you became a pilot then?"

"Nope, desk clerk at Edwards Air Force Base. It was formerly known as Muroc Field when Chuck broke the barrier, but the name changed when the Air Force became its own branch. I didn't have the proper background to be a test pilot, so I bided my time until I came across the file of some fella name of Jackson. Been flying this'n and that'n for the past seven years, had the right stuff. So, I crossed his name off and put my name on the file. And, wouldn't you know it, but I was in line to be a Goddamned test pilot."

"Really?"

"That's right. I was about to be one of the few. The proud. The brave." Grissom looked over to Bobby Lee, expecting to see another grin on his face similar to when he mentioned knowing about wanting to be a pilot, but instead was greeted with a somber frown. "Got kicked out on my ass in less than twenty-four hours."

"Sorry to hear that."

Bobby Lee spoke, his voice guttural, solemn. "Hell, pardner. Weren't your fault. But, that incident did set me back some. Sonsuvbitches wouldn't even give me a chance. Took one look at me and that was that. Sure, I lied my way in, but didn't mean I didn't deserve to be there. I had something none of those other pissants did. I had passion! I had purpose! But, purpose don't mean a good Goddamn if you ain't built like Steve Rogers."

Grissom nodded slightly, looking absently down at his less than Atlas-esque physique. "So, you became a commercial pilot then? That's why you're parked under McCarran's flight lane? They rejected you too?"

"Hell no. McCarran didn't do nothin' to me. Found me the bottom of a bottle 'stead. Got stuck in there for a good five years. Five years of frustration and brooding and alcoholism and impotence and a failed marriage and sordid encounters with prostitutes, some of who were definitely male, and then it happened. I finally figured out how to let those cocky flyboys know they made a Goddamn mistake. Show them I had the heart, the passion, to be up there with them. I'd send them a message! Took me another ten years to save up and buy the land and plant the dynamite just right so there'd be no mistake, but by damn they'd see it up in their Goddamn airplanes!"

Grissom smirked slightly as he spoke. "Well, that's a reason if ever there was one."

Bobby Lee turned to Grissom, the grin once more on his face. "You're damn right." Turning back to the expanse of land in front of them, Bobby Lee spoke once more. "And, you know what?"

"What's that?"

"Now that I'm finally done, knowing that those sonsuvbitches are gonna see it from their airplanes when they fly overhead, I can honestly say that I feel fulfilled."

The puzzlement in Grissom's voice was evident, not exactly following Bobby Lee's reasoning. "Fulfilled?"

"Well, sure. Better'n goin' around feeling bitter all the time, right? I mean, I was bitter all the time, that it almost destroyed me. But, instead of letting it get the better of me, I channeled it, focused it, and fifteen years later, here I am." Bobby Lee's voice was downright optimistic as he spoke. "I achieved something here. I did something positive."

"Pardon me if I'm not exactly following. But, you just spent the last ten years carving out what has to be undoubtedly the largest piece of profanity on the surface of this planet. And, you call that positive?"

There was no hesitation in Bobby Lee's voice, answering truthfully. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. See, you gotta remember, no matter who you are or how good you got things now, things eventually turn to shit for everyone one point or 'nother. Sooner or later, there comes a time when all you want to do is shout fuck you to the world. It came for me. So, I did. And now I feel just fine." Bobby Lee could see the uncertainty in Grissom's face as he continued. "I know. You think I'm crazy, don't you? But, let me ask you a question. What makes you so sure that time'll never come for you? What is it you rely on always bein' there for you? What is it keeps you goin'?"

Grissom shook his head, unsure of himself. "You know, I've never really thought about it. I've just been doing this for such a long time, I really haven't thought about it."

"So, think about it. Not like you got anything else better to do out here."

"Well, when you put it like that." Grissom looked back out to the horizon, trying to find an answer to Bobby Lee's question. He wasn't exactly sure how long he was sitting next to this man with a distinct vision, but when the image floated in his mind, he knew there and then he had the answer. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah."

Grissom smiled, his gaze still focused on the horizon in front of him, on Bobby Lee's achievement. Then he spoke, certain of his answer.

"A girl."

* * *

Sara frowned slightly, wondering to herself why she was even back here, in Bobby Lee's neck of the woods. However, upon nearing the shack, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. When she turned to the motion, she thought she could make out Grissom sitting in a beach chair. She shook her head, believing that her mind was playing tricks with her. 

Unfortunately, she was wrong as she neared Grissom's position, Sara now making out another beach chair and a cooler sitting between the two plastic chairs. Hearing the footsteps behind him, Grissom shifted in the chair to see Sara with a bemused smile on her face.

"I see you got my message." Grissom nodded to the empty beach chair, Sara taking the hint, sitting down next to Grissom. Upon doing so, Grissom held out a beer for Sara, Sara grateful for the cold refreshment right about now, given the ungodly heat.

"Yeah, I was checking my voice mail when, imagine my surprise, I hear your voice asking me to come back out here, telling me you had something important to discuss." Sara took a sip from the bottle, noticing that Grissom also had two pairs of headphones jacked into a radio tuner. Curiosity getting the better of her, she queried, "So, you gonna tell me what this is about? Or do I have to guess?"

Grissom smirked, taking a swig from his bottle, looking in the direction of the tract of land Bobby Lee had cordoned off for his message. "If you'd like to. But, I think it'd probably be more expedient if I just told you, if it's all the same."

"No, your way is good." Sara followed Grissom's lead, looking out to the empty land stretching out in front of Bobby Lee's makeshift house, noticing that their boy had been busy. "Hey, there are more letters out there." Grissom nodded, handing a pair of headphones to Sara. Confused, Sara took them while she spoke. "What's this?"

"It's a pair of headphones, Sara."

Sara smirked, sticking her tongue out slightly at Grissom before resuming her initial position on the beach chair. "So, you said you were gonna explain, yes?"

"So I did. Mr. Thompson loaned us the use of his radio equipment so we could be here to share in his moment of triumph."

"And the headphones?"

"Well, these are crucial, for without them, we won't be able to observe what will undoubtedly be Mr. Thompson's masterpiece." Sara began to place the headphones on her head, but Grissom shook his head. "Not yet."

"So, when do we…"

"Trust me, you'll know."

Sara nodded, taking another sip from her beer. "So, is this the important thing you had to tell me? Because, if it is, I just might have to thump you good for dragging me back out here when I had my heart set on taking a relaxing bubble bath."

Grissom chuckled softly as he spoke. "No, this is just the first part of our date."

Needless to say, Sara began to choke on the beer that was about to make its way down her esophagus, instead making a slight detour into her trachea. "Wh…what…what did you just say?"

She turned to Grissom, hoping for an explanation. Unfortunately, he followed her inquiry with one of his own. "How long have we been doing this, Sara?"

"Doing what? We're doing something now?"

Sara's reward was a small chuckle from Grissom as he spoke. "Us. I mean us."

"What about us?"

"We're both adults, Sara. So, why can't we be adult enough to talk about this thing between us instead of throwing up innuendo after innuendo?"

Sara shook her head slightly, taking a small sip from the bottle in her hand. "The truth?"

"Truth."

"I think either one of wasn't ready while the other was ready or vice versa. We never could get our timing just right. It turns out to be one reason or another. Just…bad timing, I guess."

Grissom nodded as he observed Thompson beginning to become agitated near his radio tuner. It was almost time, Grissom thought as he finally spoke. "So, are you ready now?"

Sara smirked, still looking ahead, trying to make out the letters in the distance. "Depends on how well this date pans out."

"Is that a fact?" Grissom tilted his head slightly toward Sara to see her head nod at his question before looking back to the empty tract of land. "Well, would you care to hear the details for the remainder of said date?"

"Please."

Grissom raised the bottle to his lips, contemplating taking a sip but instead speaking. "Well, when we were done here, I was planning on taking you back to my place, whereby we'd engage in numerous acts of sexual debauchery before taking a brief respite for a candlelit dinner. Then, more acts of sexual debauchery before our shift starts. Maybe even squeeze in that bubble bath you had your heart so set on." Then he brought the bottle to his lips, taking a hearty mouthful.

Sara didn't mean to laugh, but given Grissom's deadpan delivery, she couldn't do anything but. "Very funny, Grissom. Now pull the other one."

"I'm not trying to be funny." This elicited Sara's attention, Sara turning to Grissom, who continued to look out into the horizon. "Five years, Sara, give or take. I'd say we've been through enough that we can pretty much count this as at least date number five."

"You're serious?"

Grissom nodded. "I'm ready." He finally turned to Sara, a somber look on his face. "The only question is, are you?" Sara studied his face, trying to decide whether he was being sincere or not.

"Please tell me this isn't some kind of joke. Because if it is, Grissom…"

"Do I look like I'm joking, Sara?"

After a long moment of silence with the two staring into each other's eyes, Sara smiled at him softly before leaning over, her lips gently pressing against his. When he didn't pull away, Sara deepened the kiss before finally pulling back and resumed looking out into the distance, the smile still on her lips.

"A little sneak preview."

"Explains the tongue." Grissom grinned at Sara, about to continue, but the loud feedback coming through the headphones. "Now you can put on your headphones."

"Hope this is worth it, Grissom."

Grissom smiled, realizing the double entendre in her words. "It is."

Both shared a small smile before placing the headphones on their respective heads, Grissom pointing skyward, Sara's gaze following suit. Now, all that was left, other than moving along with their official first date, was to listen to the reaction that Bobby Lee Thompson's handiwork would undoubtedly have on Flight 154, now beginning to fly overhead of their location.

* * *

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain, informing you to please fasten your seatbelts, as we're about to touch down in McCarren. Off to the left, you'll see Las Vegas. Trust me, folks. She looks a lot prettier at night when she's got her lights on. And, off to your right, you'll see…" It was usually at this point that the captain would finish his inane description of the landscape before signing off for final approach. But, thanks to Bobby Lee Thompson, today was the first time Flight 154 strayed from the normal banter, instead radioing the tower earlier than they usually did. 

"Tower, this is Flight 154. You're never gonna…"

"Flight 154, this is Tower. Ah, you still with us?" Nothing. Just silence. And silence in an aircraft was never a laughing matter. "Flight 154, this is Tower, please resume transmission, over."

The silence remained for a moment before Flight 154 came back, the captain speaking, bewilderment and anger in his voice. "Jesus Christ, Tower, you're never gonna believe this! But, some dirty motherfucker wrote…"

Had the captain of Flight 154 looked closer, he might have seen Bobby Lee Thompson jumping around ecstatically, flipping his middle fingers in the air at the plane overhead, a shit-eating grin on his face while he did so. He also might have seen two Las Vegas CSIs chortling uncontrollably upon hearing Flight 154's response to Bobby Lee Thompson's message. But instead, all he saw upon flying overhead were two simple words carved into the landscape by intricate dynamiting, very much intended for his aircraft and all others that would eventually occupy that traffic lane.

**FUCK YOU**

_Fin_


End file.
